


A Friend Who's Dressed in Leather

by inber



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Aftercare, Come Marking, Come Shot, Comeplay, Dom Jaskier | Dandelion, Dry Orgasm, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Loves Jaskier | Dandelion, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Messy, Milking, Multi, Multiple Orgasms, Not Canon Compliant, One Shot, Overstimulation, Praise Kink, Safe Sane and Consensual, Safewords, Soft Dom Jaskier, Soft Eskel (The Witcher), Sub Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-16
Updated: 2020-05-16
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:09:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24214951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inber/pseuds/inber
Summary: Sort of a sequel to 'You Belong to Me' and set in the Jaskier x Wolves universe (where he is softly dominant over them), but stand-alone.A drabble in which Eskel sees how many times he can get Geralt to come until he is dry, guided by Jaskier's advice and supervision. That's it, that's the plot, it's just filthy overstim drabble porn.
Relationships: Eskel/Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Eskel/Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 44
Kudos: 528





	A Friend Who's Dressed in Leather

“What if I hurt him?” Eskel’s voice tremors with uncertainty.

“He has his word, darling.” Jaskier says. He’s lounging like a prince, fully dressed, reclining in a velveteen arm-chair adorned with carved oak. “What is your world, Geralt?”

“Snow.” The kneeling witcher replies. He’s completely nude, sheets laid out in front of him in preparation. His sizeable cock is already hard, the tip flushed blood-red and beading precome. Eskel has not laid a finger on him yet. He is dressed in only his smallclothes.

“And what is your word, Eskel?” Jaskier looks at the dark-haired witcher.

“Sky.” Eskel says. “And I am to say it if I feel uncomfortable, or scared, or if I want to stop.”

“That’s right, gorgeous.” Jaskier smiles, his face bright with delight, and Eskel secretly blossoms under the affirmation. He remembered. He was being good and useful to Jaskier.

“Can I touch you, Geralt?” Eskel whispers, and the witchers trade a quick glance, heavy with trust and honesty.

“Please.” Geralt murmurs, clasping his hands at the small of his back out of habit.

Eskel slicks his hand with Jaskier’s expensive oil. It has no real scent; the bard pays for that, because he doesn’t like distractions with his wolves. Experimentally, Eskel wraps his right hand around Geralt’s shaft and gently squeezes. He’s rewarded with a throb and a low moan.

“Do you stroke him dry often, Jaskier?” Eskel asks absently, beginning to work Geralt’s dick in a rhythm, finding out what he likes. He’s quick to discover the way the white witcher’s abdomen flinches when Eskel’s thumb runs along the ridge of his cock, and the way he ruts his pelvis in time with a faster touch.

“As often as he likes.” Jaskier sounds casual, but Eskel can smell the thick arousal rising from the bard’s skin. “He can be competitive with himself. Wants to break his own record for orgasms.” He chuckles indulgently.

Geralt is beginning to pant, and Eskel reaches his other hand around to toy with his heavy balls. The larger man is almost squirming, nuzzling affectionately back into Eskel when he can reach. It’s endearing and sexy and Eskel finds himself easily swept up in all of it.

“Good boys,” Jaskier purrs, leaning forward, “ _Look_ at you, getting him off, Eskel. You’re so wonderful at it. Gods, but he’s practically _drooling_.”

“Fuck!” Geralt rasps, his hands flailing blindly behind him to grip Eskel’s naked thighs as his first orgasm bursts from him. The only sound in the room is Geralt’s ragged, blissful panting as he spends a thick, heavy load onto the sheets. Eskel wrings the pleasure from him until he’s whimpering, and then releases him.

“Did you like that, love?” Jaskier asks Geralt, who nods dreamily. “Tell Eskel.”

“Felt so good,” Geralt confesses, half-turning, “Your hand. Thank you, Eskel.”

“You’re—you’re welcome.” Eskel is blisteringly hard, and flushed. “Is that all?”

Jaskier giggles and claps his hands. “Oh, darling, _no_. We’re just starting.”

\-------------

“ _Eskel!_ ” Geralt roars, wildly rutting into the sheath of the other witcher’s hand, slick with come and oil, “Fuck, _fuck_ , coming, _I’m coming!_ ”

He arches the small of his back, on all-fours now, and spends on the sheet again with a cry that is somewhere between tortured and absolutely delighted. Eskel bares his teeth in a snarl, unrelenting with his stroke, jerking Geralt’s shaft until he’s trembling.

“Twelve,” Jaskier says, from his sideways recline on the couch, “My goodness. What a _mess_ you’ve made, heart.”

Geralt does not have the presence of mind to reply. He simply pants for breath. Eskel smooths his hands over Geralt’s quivering thighs and backside, splattered with come that the other witcher spent rutting against his sweat-slick skin in a frenzy.

“Such a mess.” Eskel agrees, staring at the soaked puddle on the sheet. Geralt makes a needy noise, and Eskel tilts his head. “ _Again?_ Already?”

“Oh, but he gets so bossy.” Jaskier hums, “You’ll see.”

Eskel leans over Geralt, slotting his own slick erection beneath the other man’s. He rocks like that for a moment, increasing his pace when Geralt begins to tremble responsively, eventually using his hand for more friction. Their cocks squelch together with an obscene sound.

“You like that, Geralt?” Eskel moans, “Wanna come all over my cock, huh?”

“Yes!” Geralt begs, “Please, _fuck_ , Eskel—”

“Shh, good, take it... _take it_...” Eskel stumbles over his own words, the heat of orgasm coiling low in his belly and pulling his balls tight. “Gonna come with you, _fuck_.”

“Hn _nhg!_ ” The information proves too much for Geralt to stand, and Eskel feels a flood of warmth between his fingers. Jaskier watches with perverse delight as Eskel follows him in climax shortly after, the mixed spray of their seed dripping thick into the puddle. When he releases Geralt, Eskel falls back to sit, shivering.

“Praising our sweet come-slut all on your own,” Jaskier notes, “You’re such a fast learner, Eskel. I’m so proud.”

Eskel’s dick twitches at the acknowledgement, and he lowers his head shyly. “Felt good.”

“I’ll bet it did.” Jaskier smiles, “And you’re making Geralt feel good, too.”

“Is he... is that enough?” Eskel asks. He’s never tested his own endurance in this way – well, not since he was a lad, and even then there was hardly privacy for extensive investigation. He has no idea where the line ends.

“No.” Geralt snaps, and then checks his tone. “ _Please_ , no. Want more, more, I _need_ more.” His hips roll forward against nothing, desperate.

“I can finish from here if you’re tired, darling.” Jaskier offers.

“No,” Eskel says, “I-I wanted to do this. I want to see... how far.”

Jaskier’s grin is lecherous, but who is he to deny a horny witcher that he inspired? “Alright. Would you like that, Geralt?”

Geralt nods vigorously from his submissive position, until he remembers his words. “Yes. Yes please.”

“See how far you can take him, Eskel.” Jaskier nods, and continues to watch.

\--------------

Sweat is marching down their naked skin, the two men reclining. Geralt is laying against the muscle of Eskel’s chest, the other witcher’s hand still working his abused dick with fervour, every hypersensitive stroke forcing a flinch. Geralt’s eyes roll back as he stiffens and spasms, reaching behind to fist Eskel’s hair at his nape, as his cock pulses strongly. A small stream of come dribbles from the tip valiantly, dripping down Geralt’s spent balls, but most of his orgasm is dry. He gasps until the throbbing pulses through his whole body, and then he wails with the painful pleasure of it.

“Yes,” Eskel whispers at his ear, “Look at you, _look_ at that. Good, _good_ boy. Keep coming for me.”

Geralt’s back arches and he absolutely _howls_. Jaskier is unsure if his climax is prolonged, or if he’s experiencing a second one, but both he and Eskel watch Geralt’s dick throb hard until he collapses back against Eskel, pulling breath through clenched teeth.

“Twenty-two.” Jaskier whispers.

“Fuck.” Eskel hisses, wide-eyed, stroking some of the matted hair from Geralt’s forehead. “Is he... okay?”

“More than.” Jaskier says, noting the floaty expression on his beloved witcher’s face. “Anything beyond now will be dry, but he’ll still like it.”

“ _Beyond_ now?” Eskel can’t comprehend it. He’s come half-a-dozen times himself, and his balls ache. But it makes him wonder what he’s capable of; if Geralt can do this, can he? Aside from friction-rubbed skin, the white witcher does not seem to be suffering. Quite the opposite.

“Mmm.” Jaskier agrees, “Usually at this point I’ll rub salve into his cock so he’ll heal whilst he rests. But he almost always gets carried away and fucks my hand as I do, greedy thing he is.”

“Eskel?” Geralt sounds love-drunk. Eskel looks down and is met with a pair of dopey, glistening gold eyes. “’gain. Please. _A-again_.”

Jaskier is handing him a tub of what he presumes to be the salve in question, and he takes it. Smirking, he kisses Geralt’s crown.

“Alright, Geralt. Again. I’m gonna rub some medicine onto your cock, but you can come as you like, okay?” Eskel instructs.

Geralt nods lazily. Eskel scoops up a generous amount and begins to work it into the reddened skin – Geralt’s dick impossibly still erect – and Geralt makes the most adorable huffs as he does. His orgasm hits gentler, this time; he stretches cat-like against Eskel, open-mouthed, a thin line of drool spilling from the corner of his lips as his cock betrays him in rhythmic pulses. Fascinated and more than a little turned on, Eskel watches.

Jaskier says nothing. He’s beyond thrilled at the way Eskel has handled this challenge; the way he’s learnt what Geralt likes to be told, how he likes to be lead, and now the softness of aftercare. The dark-haired witcher is a far cry from the skittish man he’d once met at the gates of Kaer Morhen.

Eskel manages to guide one more shuddering, mewling climax from Geralt before the large man is completely spent. He’s messy, and Jaskier kneels to help Eskel clean most of the come from his body with damp rags so he won’t awaken in a state. Geralt is barely conscious through the process, although he hums appreciatively. With care, the two of them get him to bed – his erection finally subsiding – and he’s out as soon as his head touches the pillows.

“That was beautiful to watch, Eskel.” Jaskier places his hand on the other man’s shoulder, “Thank you for taking such good care of my love.”

“Thank you, for... letting me try.” Eskel smiles shyly. He looks at the filthy sheets on the ground, and scratches at his face. “Um, Jaskier. How did—how did you know he could... you know. Do that?”

Jaskier shrugs. “We experimented, darling. He grew to really enjoy it.”

Eskel bites his lower lip. “Maybe one day, you could... I mean, if you _want_... on me? Maybe I could try?”

The bard makes a low sound of pleasure in his throat, and kisses Eskel’s chin. “I’d dearly enjoy that, darling.”

Bolstered, Eskel flashes a crooked grin, and goes to retrieve his clothes. Then he picks up a clean sheet to bundle the soaked sheets in, stuffing the whole aftermath into a draw-string laundry bag. He lets his gaze flit fondly over Geralt, before he departs.

After such an intense experience, Jaskier would never let Geralt wake up alone. He pulls his clothes off and tucks in behind his beloved witcher, who rumbles contentedly in his rest. Jaskier is hard, and he did not come, but that was not the point.

He has much to look forward to.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! You can find me on tumblr @inber for witcher nonsense.


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